National Poetry Writing Month '21

Day Twelve

Once there was a volcano in my heart,
days dwindled,
eons passed.
One day,
my heart rumbled,
it crumbled,
it stumbled,
and then
the explosion happened.
My Pompei was flooded,
drowned in magma.
The city washed away,
barren and black.
And I wept.
I wept for the loss of my past,
I wept for who I was.
I wept for all the travelers I knew.
And those who will never see my Pompei.
I did not count the years,
I did not count the decades,
I only wept.
And when my tears dried,
then I looked up.
And what a surprise it was!
My city has burned.
But my pains have given awakening to an ocean.
An ocean with twinkling waters
and a beach of black sands.
The beach was black just as the roads of my city.
Alas! My Pompei has burned.
But these sands,
they have hid golds among them,
offering them to me.
My Pompei did burn,
now none will ever step in my city.
But this beach full of black sand,
gave me back who I am,
and among the sands
will I lay,
weaving golds in my hair
and shells in hand. 

                                  -16.04.21